#all while being unkillable

[nyxi-pixie]

on a more srs note asagiri making fyodors pitfall not understanding emotional motivation properly is very dear to me in this era of loser men idolising being a super genius who equates optimal logic to the total disregard of emotion

like at evry point dazai one upped him its just cos he can work with people and understands emotional connection better (knowing tachihara had more loyalty to the pm than to the hunting dogs [or at least to their ideals] for example and being able to put every inch of his trust in chuuya saving his ass for the 58284892nd time while fyodor is busy assuming they have a shallow bond😭).

[happy10thousandyears]

I love freaky non romantic dynamics it’s crazy !!!!! When one party is a freak and the other party is normal but tolerants the first guys freakishness

[dykecadence]

cant stop thinking about yellowjackets. those girls are buzz buzz buzzing around in my head

[essektheylyss]

[Ruin by The Amazing Devil playing softly in the background]

showed up to this d&d game to deal AOE psychic damage to every member of the party and then mySELF

[geroya]

it's so silly funny to me all of the ghostfaces that came after billy (& stu) are like we wanna be him we wanna do better than him we're gonna kill sidney but then. :/ didnt bc she survived billy so what makes u think she's not going to survive YOU & then when sam comes around they're like oh hehehe time to poke the bear that is billy loomis's legacy & accuse sam of being like him/being=to him & like. if none of yall could even ever OUTDO billy loomis & manage to kill sidney & sam is on par WITH billy what makes yall think u could kill sam.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

idk if you're still doing these but how do you think the animorphs would do against the original X-Men?

[Obligatory joke about the X-Men having an advantage because they cloned Jake to make Bobby.]

Animorphs Advantages

Trust in leadership. Full offense to Scott, but he can be bossy and overbearing to the point where it causes infighting. Jake's team will not hesitate to go up against impossible odds at his command, and basically never questions his orders in the heat of battle.

Flight hours. Warren might outweigh Tobias by a good 200 pounds, but he doesn't spend literally 15+ hours a day 7 days a week flying around hunting. And Tobias gets very good at taking out bigger opponents like David's golden eagle or the helmacron ship.

Adaptability. The Animorphs can survive in most environments most of the time, and are nigh unkillable. Jean can be taken out by a rock to the head. Scott can be taken out by a rock to Jean's head.

X-Men Advantages

Coordinated attacks. They can and do hit their enemies from multiple fonts at once: Warren goes high while Hank goes low, Jean goes mental as Bobby goes physical, so on. The Animorphs' weapons are all variations on hitting or stabbing their enemies up close.

Sheer raw power. Scott can punch a hole in a mountain. Jean may or may not be able to destroy entire planets. Bobby can make an entire city in the time it takes Scott to level one.

The fact that they actually go to school. Hank's obviously the one with the big advantage over the C- average high school dropouts, but Scott, Bobby, and Jean are also smart enough to be teachers in some continuities.

Animorphs Disadvantages

Distance. This is always their drawback, but they only have melee attacks. Scott, Jean, and Bobby can all attack from half a mile away.

Leaky communication. A ton of their strategy depends on being able to talk to each other without their enemies hearing. Even if they figure out that Jean can hear every word they're saying, they're going to be massively hampered by their inability to talk privately during battles.

X-Men Disadvantages

Compassion. Assuming that this is winner-take-all no-holds-barred fight, the X-Men will not only hesitate to kill, but are likely to stop fighting if one of their own is killed. The Animorphs have no such pangs of conscience, or at least don't let those stop them.

Lack of control. All of them are, to some extent, afraid of their own powers or hesitant to use them. You don't see Rachel beating herself up about what'd happen if she let the beast win or got too much phoenix power.

Conclusion: I'm giving this one to the mutants. Sorry, morphers.

[mikavlcs]

White Flag

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Tyler is infatuated with you. Wednesday puts a stop to it.

Warnings: possessive-ish/ooc!wednesday, tyler slander, kinda abrupt ending, this is Not Good

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: this was requested by @vorsdany​ (mother<3), it’s bad but i hope you enjoy it at least a little!

Masterlist

Wednesday had never been one for sharing.

She had no problems sharing general family items like poisons, explosives, or, if she was feeling generous, torture devices. But when it was her things, it was a different story.

On more than one occasion she had bitten Pugsley for trying to take her dolls that she was in the process of decapitating (the boy even tasted weak). Thing only needed to be punted once to learn not to take her throwing knives without asking.

And Lurch, well… Lurch was virtually unkillable, meaning that she was able to get more creative with her methods of discipline for his rare missteps.

Not even her parents were exempt from this behavior, though they adored her viciousness and feverishly encouraged it rather than punishing her for it.

Naturally, this only worsened when she entered what she considered to be the seventh circle of hell—public school.

In the many years (and schools) that followed, there were many, many injuries ranging from scrapes to broken bones, and she felt bad for none of them. They all served a purpose: to teach their recipients a lesson.

Words like possessive and territorial were thrown around often in regard to her temperament, and while she enjoyed the negative connotation of those words, she didn’t believe that they quite fit.

Wednesday saw her behavior as perfectly reasonable. Her things were hers, there was no reason for anyone else to try and take them from her.

And that was still as true now as it was then.

This mentality was what got her to Nevermore in the first place. When she started caring for her brother in some capacity, she wasn’t sure, but he was her brother, and no one else was allowed to torment him but her. 

And she made sure that the boys that shoved him in her locker were well informed of that fact.

The fact that she effectively neutered one of the jocks was just a bonus (and a favor for every woman that came into contact with him in the future).

Just before she left for Nevermore, she installed a lock on her bedroom door that only she could unlock, and if anyone else tried, they would be lucky to only lose a finger.

To her utter dismay, she did something at Nevermore that she had never done at any of her other schools—she grew attached to some of the students there. Mostly Enid and Eugene. 

They were people she would (hesitantly, especially in Enid’s case) consider friends. And with that elevated status came the same begrudging care she had for her brother.

Eugene was the same type as Pugsley—soft, squishy, and entirely too weak to defend himself from his tormentors. Thus, Wednesday did it for him.

Enid, on the other hand, was too nosy for her own good and incredibly annoying, but no one was allowed to tell her that but Wednesday. And anyone that tried was met with swift and just punishment.

So when you confessed your disgusting feelings for her to which she unfortunately reciprocated, and you got to the point where you could, in a sense, be considered hers, this mindset carried over to you as well.

Still not as intensely as with her physical belongings, of course—you were your own person with personal autonomy and agency that she would never try to take from you.

She didn’t care about you spending time with other people or being affectionate with your friends, no. What she cared about was other people trying to actually steal you from her. That was what she wouldn’t tolerate.

Those other people had no chance, of course. The two of you complimented each other perfectly. Like sodium and cyanide.

But that didn’t stop imbeciles from trying… and many certainly did try.

A group of furs made a bet to see who could successfully get you to go on a date with them first. They approached you periodically throughout the day—the stink of overconfidence and wet fur radiating from each of them.

All Wednesday had to do was flash a few select pieces from the vast silver arsenal she accumulated, and they were running away with their tails between their legs.

There was a vampire, far too ambitious for his own good, that attempted to court you from afar by…staring and lingering around you.

Enid said he was doing it “Twilight style” but Wednesday hadn’t the faintest idea what dusk had to do with his poor flirting, nor did she care enough to find out.

She instead woke him up with a stake pressed just above his heart and a threat. That worked spectacularly.

And the traces of garlic that ended up in his soup at lunch the next day were merely a coincidence.

There were others—a few more idiotic furs, some gorgons, a siren—all of which Wednesday eliminated one by one with ease.

(Non-fatally, unfortunately. Because even though you liked Wednesday’s quirks, you still disapproved of cold-blooded murder…she would work on that with you.)

Until, finally, they seemed to learn and accept that you were hers and nothing was changing that—especially not any teenage boys with egos too big for their bodies. No one dared to approach you with their romantic inquiries. And she liked it that way.

Even Xavier, despite how empty his skull seemed most of the time, knew better at that point.

But there remained one person that routinely exceeded her low expectations. One annoying thorn that dug itself deep in her side refused to go away.

Tyler Galpin.

The Weathervane barista was Jericho’s de facto golden boy. Devoted, handsome (allegedly), and a royal pain in Wednesday’s ass recently.

She didn’t hate him at first. In fact, her limited interactions with him were entirely uninteresting, something she would have forgotten if it weren’t for what came after. But what Tyler lacked in personality, he more than made up for in audacity.

He was hopelessly infatuated with you and made no attempt to hide it. Blatant longing stares,

And he knew that you were unavailable. You literally told him you were on a date with her once and he just…smiled and nodded.

Homicidal didn’t even begin to describe how she felt in that moment.

For a time, she tried to steer you away from the Weathervane, but you loved the quaint café, so it was impossible to keep you away from its cozy seats and overly sweet drinks for very long.

And it seemed that no matter when you guys went, he was there, grinning like an idiot behind the counter as you walked in.

His constant presence irritated her to no end. It didn’t help that he was fervid in his pursuit of you, despite Wednesday being literally sat across from you every time he made his advances.

Every visit, she had to watch him hand deliver drinks with hearts and compliments in the foam art, had to watch you try to politely deal with your discomfort.

The urge to throw the drink in his face was so potent that it took every single ounce of self-control to hold herself back from doing it.

From then on, she ached to teach him the same lesson she did everyone else, but every time she saw him, you were also present. And to subject you to such acts when she knew you wouldn’t approve would be unbecoming of her.

She would also prefer to be with you and her friends at Nevermore instead of sitting in a jail cell.

So she decided to take it easy on him. The next time she was subjected to the displeasure of sharing space with him, she would give him a simple warning and from there he had two options.

He either got the message or the sheriff would be burying his only son.

-

In recent times, Fridays had become something to look forward to for Wednesday.

Since you’d begun seeing each other, you were insistent on taking her out every Friday after classes were over to “celebrate the weekend.”

In reality, Wednesday knew it was just an excuse to spend time alone with her without calling it a “date” because she loathed the term. She accepted it, for your sake.

This tradition is how you both ended up on the school-provided shuttle into Jericho, your book in your hands as you idly watched the passing scenery, Wednesday watching you in turn.

She would have invited you to her dorm, but Thing liked to take up as much of your attention as possible when you visited, so instead she decided to take you into town.

Predictably, the moment you stepped off the shuttle, you were begging her to go to the Weathervane.

She wanted to say no. Honestly, she would rather subject herself to the depths of hell that was Pilgrim World than step foot inside that place, but you were utilizing a recent favorite tactic of yours—a brutal combination of pouting and begging incessantly.

You cradled her hand between both of yours, wide eyes drenched in overblown sorrow and, to her amusement, oncoming tears.

The act was topped off with an occasional pleading, “Please, Wends,” taking extra care to extend the word please to infuriating lengths every time.

But even with how well-fortified her mental walls were, there was only so much her sanity could take. So she let you drag her through the doors of the coffee shop, vowing to get sweet revenge on you when you least expected it.

Of course, Tyler was there, lurking behind the counter with his eyes already intently trained on you, likely already spotting you outside the window.

Not noticing her tension, you turned to her, excited as could be. “I’ll order our drinks. Can you get us a booth?” you asked before walking up to the front.

Her eyes followed as you set your hands on the marble, leaning to look at the full menu board behind Tyler, then she turned her attention to him.

He had that look again, “heart eyes” as Enid would call it. It made her want to rip them out of his skull.

Wednesday tore her eyes away from the interaction and looked for a seat as you asked her to. Knowing you liked the booths near the windows, her gaze traveled there, finding most of them vacant.

Usually, she preferred sitting in the back corner, but this time she strode toward the booth all the way up front, wanting to be both as far from the barista and close to the exit as possible, and sat with her back to the wall.

Her mind wandered as she waited for you to return. She thought of Thing, who she had given permission to prank other students in exchange for him remaining at Nevermore while she brought you to Jericho.

She hoped he hadn’t hurt anyone too badly—at least not while she wasn’t there to watch.

Soft footfalls brought her from her musings, and she looked over just as you neared the booth.

You set her drink down on the table in front of her with a smile brighter than the sun. She gave you a nod in lieu of thanks and watched as you settled back in your seat, flipping open whatever fantasy novel you were immersing yourself in now atop your crossed legs.

Wednesday never fully understood the love you harbored for this place, but she had to admit that at times like this, the café was pleasant to be in.

Like her, you were in casual clothes, freed from the striped confines of the Nevermore uniform, and your relaxed posture reflected that change. You looked at home in the cushioned booth with pages nestled between your fingers and a furrowed brow.

The late afternoon sun was beginning to set outside, painting the sky a vibrant mixture of oranges, pinks, and purples. 

Wednesday normally hated any color besides the dark crimson of freshly drawn blood, but the way this specific kaleidoscope of hues highlighted your features made it impossible for her to feel anything akin to hatred for them now.

The way the light refracted off the glass and onto your face was reminiscent of the Renaissance-era oil paintings she had been forced to analyze in art class. Easily more captivating than anything da Vinci or Michelangelo could ever dream of creating.

Even the sterilized music they played from the café speakers was less grating than usual (or she was being slowly indoctrinated… she would have to investigate that later).

You looked up, reaching for your drink, and your eyes found hers. A warm, if slightly mischievous smile appeared on your face, growing as you held up your cup.

“You wanna taste?”

She scrutinized the drink in your hand—some sugary monstrosity called “hot chocolate”—and immediately shook her head. “Absolutely not, I value my digestive system.”

You laughed, nose scrunching in that way that Wednesday found herself just a bit enamored with. Once your laughter subsided, you took a long sip, heaving an exaggeratedly satisfied sigh afterward.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her own book from her bag, a spellbook her mother had given her for her birthday. She’d been studying it for weeks now, wanting to see if she could tap into the supposed magical capabilities that her distant ancestors wielded.

The booth lapsed into silence, the only sounds being the background chatter of the few other café guests and the low overhead music as you enjoyed each other’s company, taking sips every so often.

But the peace didn’t last, for Tyler just had to pollute the air with his presence again. This time, completely uninvited.

Wednesday recognized the footsteps before he even properly approached the table, but you didn’t notice until he was in your space, feet coming directly into your line of sight as you read. You glanced up at him, brows drawn in confusion, and he gave you that stupid grin.

His hand moved and to Wednesday’s shame, it was only then that she noticed the plate he was holding. Shyly, he set it down in front of you, presenting what looked to be a Danish of some kind.

“For the prettiest girl in the café.”

Wednesday made a mental note to check if her spellbook contained any particularly debilitating curses.

Your lips pulled back into more of a grimace than a smile, but he accepted it with enthusiasm, nonetheless, and walked off before you could give any sort of proper response.

Wednesday decided that was it. She downed the rest of her drink and stood, muttering a foreboding “I’ll be right back” in the process.

The weight of your gaze settled on her shoulders as she stalked over to the counter but she brushed it off, her focus set firmly on the boy operating the machines behind it. A conscious effort was made not to crush the cup in her hand. She didn’t want to alert you to her pursuit.

Silently, she placed the cup down on the marble and rang the bell.

Tyler’s face lit up at the sound, but it fell when he turned and locked eyes with Wednesday.

“Oh, Wednesday, hey. Do you need something?”

Her lips curled into a sinister smile. “Yes, actually, I do.”

Reaching over the counter, she grabbed Tyler’s apron and pulled him forward. Tyler, eyes wide, sputtered but was quickly silenced by the murderous glint in the seer’s eyes.

“I need you to get it through your thick, bulbous skull that she’s not interested. And quickly, or I promise that you will be eating through a straw for the rest of your short, miserable life,” she assured him, speaking low so only he could hear. 

She dropped her voice even lower to the barest of whispers, leaning forward as her apathetic eyes bored into his.

“Don’t think that you’ll be safe from me just because you’re the sheriff’s son. Do you understand?”

Tyler nodded hurriedly, his normally pallid complexion growing an even starker white.

Wednesday abruptly let go of his apron, sending him stumbling back on unsteady feet. She gave him another frosty glare, for good measure, before casting her gaze down to her cup.

“Oh, and I need a refill. Make it on the house,” she said, pushing the empty cup toward the unmoving boy then walking back to her table.

The curious looks you were giving her went ignored as she sat back down and opened her book to continue her studying.

“What did you say to him?” you asked, eyeing the boy’s terrified expression.

Wednesday shrugged. “I simply asked him for a refill.”

She knew you didn’t believe her, but she also knew you wouldn’t question her further, so she kept her eyes on the pages in front of her and waited for her drink to arrive.

Tyler returned minutes later, noticeably more withdrawn. His eyes never left the ground as he delivered Wednesday’s drink and immediately hurried back behind the perceived safety of the counter. 

Your wide, concerned eyes followed him as he left.

“Just a refill?” you reiterated, skepticism dripping from every syllable.

Wednesday smirked. The familiar vindictive feeling of victory set in, creating a terrifyingly satisfying afterglow for her to bask in as she took your hand in hers, and squeezed it lightly.

“I swear on my late scorpion’s life, mon cher.”

[munsonbrackets]

Astarion x undying male reader

Just imagine Astarion having to lure back someone who can’t die for Cazador. 

Like Cazador didn’t tell him anyone specific, just someone pretty, which you are. Undeniably.

So he lures you over from across the bar, gets to talking, does the chatting he usually does. And you are so nice to him, but he refuses to be locked in another coffin for 200 years for not doing what Cazador said, so he lures you to Cazador.

But just a small problem with you being lured to Cazador to be turned into a spawn. You are a random dude who just cannot die. Not in the “nothing can kill me, i'm unkillable and immortal!” kind of way. No. That would be too simple. You cannot die in the “bone snapping, skull shattering, viscera brought to life once more.” kind of way.

So when Cazador attempts to turn you, you just kinda wake up again. With all of your blood still in you and a REALLY pissed off true vampire looking at you. And Cazador tries, tries again, tries 100 more times and he just cannot turn you. 

And you really can’t be bothered to stay for another 100 trials, so you just leave, first chance you get. All of the spawn think you’re one of them, Cazador being too embarrassed to tell the truth. That he was too weak to turn you.

You leave Baldur’s gate, no need to have a pissed off old vampire coming after you. Especially not when all of his plates are silver, the dude has got money.

And a while later, when you get kidnapped and forced onto the nautiloid. You were scared for the first time in a long time. You had never had an illithid parasite put into your skull. The nautiloid then came crashing down and you were half expecting to just vomit it up. The other half of you wondering whether or not your affliction with death would prevent you from becoming a mind flayer. You always heard that mindflayers very much lacked in the soul category, maybe that’s why you could never stay dead?

But you decide to go at it, you’ve been gone from Baldur’s gate for a few 100 years, maybe someone there could help. On the way you find many companions, Gale of waterdeep, Lae’zel the githyanki, Shadowheart and the rest of your astounding group.

But most importantly, Astarion. Astarion the vampire spawn. Which the group found out about fast enough, specifically when he tried to bite you. You just could not tell whether or not he knew you. Recognized you.

That is until you and him sit alone, watching the stars. 

“You remind me an awful lot about someone I used to know.” Astarion practically whispered it out, seemingly unable to make up his mind whether or not he was gonna let the words out.

“Do I now? What was he like?” You mutter back, your eyes still fixated on the stars. But you are still so aware of him next to you.

“He was… I can’t completely remember. I met him once, maybe twice.” Astarion pauses and a shuddered breath is forced out of his lungs, he’s tense. Possibly remorseful. “But he was beautiful. He would look at everyone like they were infinite. He did that to people. Made them feel invulnerable.”

You ignored Astarion’s indirect, very direct, compliment.

“What happened to him?”

The words left your lips faster than you could really think about them. You tried easing the tension by laying flat on your back, using your palms as pillows for your head. 

Astarion’s breath almost hitched at your words, but he took a second, seemingly in thought. He was probably considering whether or not he should tell you the truth. You realized you had put him into a curious position, and with the battles ahead, you were inevitably going to see Cazador once more. Cazador would definitely recognize you.

“You handed him over to Cazador, didn’t you?”

You forced the words out this time. Every single part of your very being, screaming at you to be quiet.

Astarion swallowed harshly.

“Yes. I did. I wish I could say I would do anything to bring him back from whatever wretched fate Cazador forced him into. But I can’t. It’s never that simple is it?”

An involuntary chuckle left your throat and you saw Astarion whip his head towards you, his anxiety rising a thousand fold. You quickly sat up, looked at him reassuringly, and then you gently folded his hand between yours.

“I’m certain he forgave you long ago. Especially knowing what you went through, I highly doubt he blames you.”

And in Astarion’s eyes you recognized the same man from all those years ago, the insecure vampire spawn with the twinkle of the entire universe locked in his eyes.

You hoped that you made him feel as invulnerable as the first time you met him.

[punkeropercyjackson]

It's finally here!!!

Graphic design is my passion LMFAO but as i said i would do a while back,i've created a masterpost of all the Jason Todd content that's worth your time!This is rather long but he's existed since 1983 so!!

Base edit is my little sister @mayameanderings and tagging @coffeemilkcatz and @nanaonmars since they said yes when i asked if they wanted me to!Let's dive in then!

Batman 408-426,Detective comics 568-582,Superman annual 11,New Teen Titans 18-31,Blue Devil 19,Action comics 556 and 594,Batman Annuals 10-12 and Batman(The cult)for pre-reboot Robin!Jason my beloved

Nightwing Year One 101-106,New Teen Titans 55,Nightwing 10(1997)and Legends of the Dark Knight 100 for Dick and Jason siblinghood,Gotham Knights 34 for the short story of him and Alfred and Detective comics 790 for Bruce telling Cass about him as it takes place on Jason's birthday

Lost Days aka the Red Hood prologue

Under The Red Hood(2010)-The original comic is good in it's own right but the movie is leagues better written(Rare comic book adaption exception lmao)

Robin 177 and 182-183 for tha actual Tim and Jason beef instead of 'replacement' and 'enemy to caretaker' bs

Azreal:Death's Dark Knight 3(Can't give commentary on this one since i don't know Azreal like that,sorry)

Red Hood and The Outlaws(2016).Unlike the Utrh comic vs the Utrh movie,the original Rhato has nothing positive like the reboot

Not TECHNICALLY Jason BUT Duke is his favorite brother and Stephanie's the only Batfam girl he's truly close to so you should also stan them since he'd want you to /lh

Red Hood:Outlaw for the confirmation that Red Hood loves black women from infinity to infinityyyyy(meaning his love interest Dana Harlowe is introduced and featured as an mc in this run)

Urban Legends 1-6 for his return to the Batfam-Messy tbh but i do enjoy parts of it!

Task Force Z for him and Stephanie being a vigilante team and it has a prelude,that being Detective comics 1041-1043

Unkillables and Joker:The Man Who Stopped Laughing for Jayrose goodies and more of the above

Gotham War if you feel like turning off your brain to look at good art and laugh at dogshit writing

Red Hood:The Hill is his current run and when our queen Dana comes home from comics limbo!!!

The following is a misc list that's not required to include in your Jason knowledge but HIGHLY recommended you do just for fun!

Tiny Titans 23,29,33,39,45 and 47,Bombshells 46,60 and 62,Bombshells United 18-24,Lego Batman:Family Matters,A Death In The Family 2020,Batman:The Adventures Continue,Batman/Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 5-6,The Doom That Came to Gotham 2023 and The Teen Titans Go episode 'The Best Robin'(Pre-Reboot Robin Jason rights!!!).Also look up 'Nobody cares about Tim Drake' if you don't know what that is,you'll love it

Jason also appears in the Lego DC Super Villains games that i highly recommend as well especially because my girlfriend is a mega fan of it and i don't know much about Lego Batman 3:Beyond Gotham but please avoid the aformentioned original Rhato,Red Hood:Outlaws and the Gotham Knights game as they feature extremely problematic writing not limited to but including racialized misogyny and ableism and do disservice to Jason himself anyway so you wouldn't want to consume them to begin with if you want to like him.I have mixed feelings on the Arkham Knight and Injustice games series' but they are objectively fairly good so i wouldn't say no to giving them a shot to see if you like them

And for the finale we have Wayne Family Adventures-Definitely a good read but to be totally honest it does Duke DIRTY and it sucks so much of DC to have marketed as his series to not only not follow through at all and make it an ensemble cast instead but ALSO deprive him of his actual characterization and story to make him a demure weak black boy stereotype.I won't judge you at all for liking it if you decided to read it or have already but kindly keep this in mind and consider joining me and my mutuals in our rewrite of it to give our Signal of Hope and Chaos the writing he deserves or at least support us through likes and reblogs!Happy Jason readings and have a good day💕

[simpinformonkies]

hiiii niiiilllooooooo

howzabout a wukong or macaque x celestial monkey reader? :3

I FUCKING GOT YOU FAM! I'll do Wukong for this one.

WUKONG

-He came to a random island when he was younger to steal some fruits for his master during the journey (Tripitaka had complained about being hungry) and had been about to swipe a crisp, red apple when you came barreling towards him with sharp claws, fluffed fur and bared teeth.

-You were a Celestial Primate- one of the only four in the world- and were pissed to find Sun motherfucking Wukong on your island- worse, he was attempting to steal YOUR FOOD!

-You wanted nothing to do with the monkey, not after his 'havoc in heaven', and practically told him as such, words spitting pure, undultured poison at the other monkey.

-But, you were not heartless, and allowed Wukong to leave your island unharmed... only to realize, hours later, that the bastard monkey stole your damn apples! you were furious, but let it go- it wasn't like you'd be seeing him ever again.

-Too bad you were wrong- that annoying simian came back every few years just to mess with you, and it pissed you off every time he did it. One moment you'd be lounging around on your beloved island's beaches, and the next, Sun Wukong would be causing mayhem somewhere closeby.

-In general, Wukong was being a annoyance and menace.

-What a shocker! Not like he's like that all the fucking time or anything...

-Can you hear the sarcasm?

-Anyway, you dealt with him for centuries, and while you found he was still very annoying, you... stopped having your words and insults hold so much bitterness and bite- you were tired of being an asshole to this simian, it just wasn't worth it. Nowadays, if he annoyed you, you'd just smack him with your tail and go on about your day.

-Some days, you'd even find yourself wishing that he was on the island- especially when the boredom kicked in- but you'd just shake your head and swat the thought away as it was a fly.

-But damned if that thought wasn't as annoying and unkillable as a fly- somehow, your brain would always come back to thinking of Wukong, it was driving you crazy.

-Nevertheless, you just dealt with his antics with a fond roll of the eyes and a swat of the tail, and it stayed like that for decades (centuries? You don't remember, time is an illusion).

-Then came the time- just a few years before Wukong would find his 'successor'- that Wukong started leaving things on your island. From shiny necklaces, bracelets and rings, to following you around on your island, to even laying down on the beach with you when you go to soak in the warm sun, running his fingers through your hair and untangling any knots you find.

-This went on for a few weeks before the whole thing hit you like a freight-train.

-'This is courtship,' you'd think, blinking confusedly as the situation settles itself in your mind, 'Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, is courting me.'

-'...And ya know what?' you lean into his hands, smiling as they gently cascade through your fur, 'I'm okay with that.'

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

"Either Must Die at the Hand of the Other"

I got an idea for a Harrymort fic but I just don't have time!

I thought of what if the prophecy was literal in that Harry and Voldemort can ONLY kill each other.

So, at the end of OotP, Harry literally eats an AK to the face from a DE, and while it leaves another burning scar behind, it just doesn't work. And Voldemort, who has witnessed this happen, is suddenly baffled. Harry, in shock because the bright green light was too fast to dodge and therefore landed, gets hit with a few more AKs from other DEs who have begun to panic about him being unkillable.

For some reason he just won't die. They even try other curses, and some of the worst that could maim a person just bounce off of him entirely.

And it's the prophecy behind it. Because the prophecy has linked Voldemort and Harry together, only they can kill each other, effectively making them both immortal. Voldemort must suddenly rethink his plans because with this as their reality, keeping Harry Potter alive is actually far more important to his own continued longevity. If Harry Potter dies by his hand, the prophecy will be fulfilled, and he will suddenly be vulnerable to death from outside forces.

He'll eventually learn that some of his Horcruxes are missing after all. It'll only drive the point home that someone knows about his efforts to become immortal and is hunting him down. And since he isn't stupid, he knows it's Dumbles and that Harry is being raised as a martyr who will do whatever he's told like a good little puppet, for Dumbledore's sake.

This would be a very interesting take and I want Harry being a brat the entire way through and somehow, when not clouded by murderous rage, Voldy likes that.

[briebysabs]

I’m so glad Domi brought this up bc one of Noe’s main character flaws is his recklessness. His straightforward thinking can cause him to have tunnel vision and completely forget his own self. Bc of that some ppl have mischaracterized him as having little intelligence.

But we see that clearly isn’t the case, Noé can think on his feet, observe, and learn from his environment quickly. Noé is very emotionally intelligent otherwise how would he deal with Vanitas on a constant basis? How would he comfort and assure Domi, befriend Roland, inspire Jean-Jacques? But while his reckless nature can be endearing at times, it’s also very concerning. There are several things Noé has done that, from a certain angle, looks kinda crazy. And to me, this all boils down to the fact that Noé does not consider himself in the equation. Him seeing himself as strong or unkillable isn’t from pride or naivety, it’s complete lack of awareness towards himself.

Because Noé doesn’t see himself as a person.

And when you follow that thread, a lot makes sense. His fear of being an Archiviste, the disgust he had when there’s some relief that Louis didn’t kill him, being kidnapped and treated like an object for who knows how long. Teacher calling him “mon chaton” and raising Noé like a fucking pet. Not telling people of his past. And this is what we know of. Noe acts like he doesn’t have an identity, he exists for others, for memories, as a weapon, as a “saviour”. Noé hasn’t realized that he is a person whose feelings are valid, who isn’t a machine and can die or fail, his life matters just as much as the people he cares about.

[somnambulant-seraphim]

Some more patch ideas I've had for a while. I tried out a few bone designs, my favourites are the bigger ones, they're supposed to be a femur and a tibia and fibula, I think they'll look cool on a pant leg >:)

The upper longer quote is one I made up, and the lower one is adapted from a Wendell Berry quote:

“The soil is the great connector of lives, the source and destination of all. It is the healer and restorer and resurrector, by which disease passes into health, age into youth, death into life. Without proper care for it we can have no community, because without proper care for it we can have no life.”

I've done a couple dandelions before, but this specific dandelion patch is very inspired by this: https://ryegarden.tumblr.com/post/722650910186192896/be-like-the-dandelion-unkillable-joyous

The ace cards represent asexuality. The ace of clubs represent being a grey ace, and ace of hearts is associated with being a romantic ace.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Breaking news: Catherine’s photo is now “unkilled” but with notation about the edits (the Express)? I need to schedule a chiropractic adjustment; I have whiplash. This nothingburger merely gained Catherine’s pic - which already had, what, over 50 mil views? - even more media attention! You can’t buy this kind of press! (Not that it’s KP/the Wales who are lusting after increased PR attention.) 

PS: If the sm euphemism for “killed”/“died” is “unalived,” would the equivalent of “unkilled” be “un-unalived,” as in C’s pic is now “un-unalived”? Or would it simply revert to “alived”?

*****************

Exactly. IMO, they realized how badly they fucked this up and are now trying to walk it back. 

While I don’t know what’s really behind why they’re walking it back and have “unkilled” the photo (and I haven’t really been following the developments closely), my theory is that they realized the wormhole they’ve opened and they’re trying to get that horse back in the barn. There’s now an expectation that they need to evaluate and scrutinize every single photo that enters the media for edits or photoshopping, and certain segments of the public will hold them accountable to it. After all, if you do that for the Prince and Princess of Wales, why can’t you do that for the Duke and Duchess of Sussex? The Kardashians?  The Trumps? The {whover is the hot celeb of the moment}? The {whoever celeb in crisis/recovery PR mode}?

It’s like I said in my original post. This was going to backfire right from the get-go. It doesn’t matter which “side” you’re on or who you think is at fault; it’s backfiring on everyone:

The wire services who rushed to judgment. Now they have to re-evaluate their rules and processes for what qualifies as “too much” editing to be published and their position as a neutral media organization has been questioned.

The reporters who went all “off with their heads” to KP. Now they have to deal with an even-more-standoffish and press-averse Prince and Princess of Wales.

The Sussexes or an associate who tipped an AP source to look at the photo. Now they have to reckon with the Sussexes’ own media being scrutinized for edits.

KP who didn’t respond to the inquiries and questions as soon as they first started coming in. Now they have to deal with even more conspiracy theories.

Now, let’s say that there really were legitimate concerns by the press or the public about the photo being edited. What could they have done instead of going for the nuclear option? A couple of things immediately come to mind:

Privately reached out to KP to ask what was happening and not say anything until they responded. It was the weekend, and a holiday, of course they’re not going to respond immediately. And with the Oscars taking place, the photo would’ve been buried soon enough..

Put a community note or a disclaimer on your publication/posts of the photo explaining your concerns instead of blasting your listserv with “this is fake, take it down.”

Not done anything at all and handle it privately offline with the palace.

But everyone’s made their bed. Now they’ve got to lie in it. But will they?

Spoiler alert: They won’t.

[naisilla]

Summary: You get curious as to if Aatrox has a cock

Pairing: Aatrox x Feminine Reader

Warning: NSFW, Unedited, Slight non-con.

No context to the relationship so for simplicity sake I'll make it the Summoner AU.

Aatrox’s size would cast a shadow wherever he was, he was a mountain, a stature of muscle that roiled under red leathery skin. He was a sight to behold as a god-like warrior, and you often found your eyes wandering over his form. He was once a human, even after ascending and then being corrupted into the darkin he is now, he still kept an anthropoid form. So does that mean he still had a…

You’re eyes once again fall back onto the pelvic region of the darkin noting how his v line leading to his groin was sharp like an ironed edge. Aatrox wore no clothes, such an unkillable gladiator did not require cloth to protect his vessel. He stood completely bare yet barely looked nude as his groin was flat. Nothing is exposed and in need of censoring. So what? did his dick just evaporate? Seemingly it must’ve, right?

Lost in thought you found your heart sinking once you realised the Darkin had noticed you staring. His glowing red eyes harshly glared down upon you. “My eyes are up here mortal” his gruff and guttural voice barked making you shake where you stood. You could feel your chest cave in on itself as the giant marched over towards your tiny cowering form. The darkin leaned over you, his lips curled back into a sneer “What is it that you want mortal your ogling agitates me”. You can feel your cheeks shamefully heat up as you direct your gaze to the floor focusing on the armored talons that stand before your feet clicking at the floor impatiently. 

His demonic hand instantly grips your jaw as his claws force you to look directly up at him. “I am not foolish mortal I’ve lived through millennia and I know what such wandering eyes are thinking”. You feel the claws that scrape your jaw slide around to the back of your neck in a swift motion as he grabs a hold of the scruff of your top lifting you to his face, breathing a huff of hot air. “You lustful minx”. 

Aatrox drops you and you hit the ground with a thud the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. You roll over trying to recover from the hit but aren't given the chance as the darkin kneels over you trapping you between his legs. You stare up startled when you notice the sound of flesh being split in a wet tear and to your horror you spot a slit stretch open on his groin as something protrudes from within.

You weren’t sure what to expect, you could only imagine what the darkin could be packing but it wasn't as monstrous as the phallus that swelled above you. 

It was muscular, the base transitioning from dark to bright red at the tip with glowing veins that carried a current of pulsing light through the shaft. 

Tentatively you raised your arm in front of you and gawked when you concluded that its length matched that of your forearm. You glance up at Aatrox, trembling beneath him. His tongue clicked in annoyance at your inaction. “Well?” he prompted, angling his hips so that his cock prodded your face. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat and reach out to grasp the girth unsurpsrised that your fingers couldnt fully wrap around it leaving a couple of inches gap between your digits. Feeling compelled you try to stretch your lips over its head, feeling the sides of your mouth split with the strain. You can’t get it all the way in because of how large and swollen it is. You choke and gag on it anyway, tears pricking the sides of your eyes. Your soft hands grasp the shaft while you work the head with your tongue, your drool slicking down the length coaxing your fingers as they ran up and down the taut thickness.

Aatrox leers down as your tiny and frail body trys so hard to fit it in your throat despite it truly never fitting. He’s abnormally quiet when his large hands grip your head, forcefully sliding you along his cock creating hefty, sloppy sounds. You stare up at the Darkin with trembling nerves as he uses his cock to flatten your tongue along the floor of your mouth so he can fully stretch you out.

Thats when he begins to pick up the pace and ferocity now jamming his length down your throat and you gag, your hands fly to his hips as you desperately try to push yourself off of him and his advances. But its no use, you stood no chance against Aatrox and he was going to use your throat regardless of your need to breathe.

Your helpless body convulsed and retched at being violated so roughly as your gullet retched at what was only a tiny portion of his giant cock. Aatrox growled the rumbling of his voice frightening you at the beast you have awoken. He finally speaks again “tsk you’re taking too long. I am going to ruin your puny body mortal” Aatrox then grabs you, tearing away you clothes effortlessly and handles you with one of his massive hands away from his cock with a wet pop. A long slick thread of spit stretches away from it as he then maneuvers you and hovers you over his cock.

You gulp in trepidation a part of you wanted this but you still feared of how unprepared you were for this. You stare up at him bewildered “w-wait you're not going to prepare me first!?” Your voice quivered. As he prods his cocks head flush against your wet hole gripping the base of his dick as he tests your resistance to it. You whimper as he crushes the head hard against your entrance the force barely restraining from sliding it in. Aatrox pants ruggedly and a sick grin carves itself on his face. “You could never be prepared enough for this.” 

The Darkin then crams it in you, he rushes getting it inside of you as he could feel it growing even more when he marveled over how small your body looks like this against him. It's enough to break you and you let out a silent scream as you feel your hole crushing the darkin cock inside you. 

Aatrox grabs you by your hips and forces you to sink further and further onto his cock as he spears you with it making it fit nice and snug inside of you all the while it threatens to split you open.

You grab onto aatroxs arm to brace yourself as he continues to abuse your hole grunting and growling like a feral beast. His stamina is unending as you feel yourself lose track of time while aatrox uses you like a toy. The ferocity and guttural sounds he'd make were picking up louder and faster and you could feel him building up.

After a few more irregular sharp thrusts you could feel his cum flood in thick ropes. One load, two loads, three loads, four loads, the fifth load began to drip out while the darkin continued pumping more. You could only hang there speared onto his cock as cum dripped down you legs like melting cream. 

Your core now felt sore with blunt aching, Aatrox would grab you from under your arms and lift you off of him having to tug a little as his cock dragged on your overstimulated walls. He drops you to the ground again more softly compared to last time and towers over you once again pumping out the last of him cum to dribble onto your face as you stare up blankly and broken....

First smut ever, cant be bothered to edit atm. Not sure how to feel about this debut post but this is my account dedicated to much more dark and mature themes sooo...

[midnightsunnyday]

Random Headcanons About The World of Obey Me!:

Possible trigger warnings: mentions of self-harm and child birth.

Angels and demons don't age physically like humans, obviously. 100 years is roughly about one human year and so on. Lucifer, for example, existed before the beginnings of humanity and even time itself. Take that as you will.

Demons can't die. Technically. They can be injured, feel pain, even get sick, but they cannot experience "true death" as they will always regenerate themselves, regardless of the amount of time it takes to do so. However, during periods of intense physical trauma, they can return to what they call "the darkness before." It was once that Beelzebub experienced such a place after being seriously injured while protecting one of his brothers. When asked to describe it, the only answer he could give was simply, "boring."

That being said, there are ways to kill a demon, permanently, but doing so would require rather ancient and powerful magic, as well as finding a way to remove them from the cycle of creation itself. And the more powerful the demon, the harder it is to do. Demons like Barbatos, in this case, are virtually unkillable.

There are some demons who suffer through what is known as "cessation sickness." Symptoms include extreme fatigue, depression, migraines, bouts of forgetfulness, apeirophobia, and self-harm.

Children's television and interactive media in the Devildom is a bit more "eerie" than that of the human world. Think of Candle Cove or Fun with Amanda type of programs on the regular. What a human child or adult might see as disturbing is downright hilarious to a demon child. Speaking of children...

Demons, at least during certain occasions, are infertile. An immortal species has no need to consistently repopulate itself, after all. Yet every hundred years or so, demons do experience what is basically a mating season. The season lasts for only a moon, making the window to concieve very short. During this time, demons who are interested in baring children will build mating dens and perform certain rituals for their partners. Said experience is also very physically demanding and can take multiple, multiple attempts. Concieving a child, let alone bringing one to term, is not only rare but when successful, warrants a celebration that can last for days.

Demons who wish not to perform in said actions are offered alternatives. Substances that extinguish the need to mate are available during the season. It goes without saying that Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Mephistophles, other royals, as well as the rest of the brothers, have found said alternatives mandatory...for obvious reasons.

Demon anatomy is...weird. Depending on the demon, there usually isn't one set amount of organs or parts, which makes Anatomy 101 even more confusing. Leviathan, for example, has three hearts (being kinda like a fish has its benefits).

When Diavolo closed the portals between realms, some demons were caught off from their main source of substance: human flesh and souls. Some either adapted, finding new ways to procure their energy, or went insane and needed to be exposed of (the incubi/ sucubi species were hit the hardest by this). Survival of the fittest is quite literal in the Devildom.

Demons weren't always like the ones you see now. Primordial demons were much more terrifying and closer to the ones most humans envision when they think of a devil. Most demons are capable of reverting to said forms, yet only under extreme circumstances.

Some may ask why exactly demons and angels look so close to mortals in appearance. One reason is that maintaining such a simple, bipedal form is easier for everyday mobility. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to walk through a door with hundreds of appendages or enjoy an iced latte when you're several stories tall or even hold a simple conversation without driving the person you're attempting to converse with into madness. Another reason is hunting, at least for demons. Luring in human prey is easier when they don't immediately run away screaming. And if you're one of "those types," mating. Let's just say things get messy and downright impossible when one partner doesn't have the proper biology.

Demons, for the most part, were always destructive, insatiable, and chaotic evil creatures. This began to change when certain primordial demons bred with other demons close in "emotional capacity" and created clans. Those clans eventually became kingdoms, and those who rule them now sit atop the hierarchy of the nine circles of hell. Lord Diavolo's ancestry, for example, leads back to the very beginnings of the Devildom and have stood there for eons.

The avatars are merely a physical representation of the sin that already exists within humans. They do not cause humans to sin just by merely being near them, though they can influence a sin if it's already there. Because of this, avatars are very good at sensing their sins and tend to be drawn to places that hold them the most. It's why Mammon and Asmodeus particularly love nightclubs.

Mammon tried his hand in the human stock exchange once and was found to be so good at it that he nearly collapsed the world economy. There's a reason Lucifer forbids Mammon from interfering with any human related trade or commerce.

Lucifer doesn't particularly care for most of his human created depictions in art or media. Satan also holds a slight gripe as well.

Lucifer, Belphegor, and Asmodeus have the ability to mimic voices. Asmodeus for...obvious reasons, Belphegor for more malicious purposes, and Lucifer only on rare occasions. Though when he's really spiteful, he'll use it to mimic MCs voice to draw Mammon out of hiding.

The brothers wonder how Belphegor, despite never seeming to work or...do much of anything, tends to have an ample amount of Grimm. Being known as the "demon of invention" has its perks. Along with being able to enter other's dreams, he can also influence those to pursue in certain endeavors that are bound to fail and lead nowhere (rather silly to bet on dreams with the avatar of sloth, huh)? When they inevitably do fail, Belphegor offers them a simple deal: a reasonable fee for the eternal, continuous, autonomous ownership of their soul. Most, of course, pay.